


Martyrs

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Desperation, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Object Insertion, Omorashi, Watersports, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>To protect Rey Luke would walk through fire, acquiescing to Snoke’s lackeys seemed a small price to pay.</i><br/>Luke is held captive by a high ranking officer of the First Order, Rey's safety is dependent on his compliance with the man's unique requests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Martyrs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sgntbarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgntbarnes/gifts).



> Please read the tags. You have been warned. Kinks ahead.

“Allow me to educate you on the nature of your captivity.”

Luke stares down at his shackles barely acknowledging the officer in front of him. His captors had always enjoyed cataloging the ways in which they planned on torturing him and the First Order mimicked the Empire's tactics to a t. The man circling him was a shadow of the opponents Luke had faced in the past, he may have studied Vader and Palpatine but he lacked their authority. Luke has yet to experience anything akin to the fear that would course through him each time he crossed paths with his father. In the cool air of the officer's quarters all Luke can feel is discomfort not dread. Standing for hours in the cramped heat of the ship's hold has weakened his body, while his inability to locate Rey in the force chipped away at his resolve. 

"You are to be delivered intact to the Supreme Leader as such you have nothing to fear."

Listening to this man drone on about his confinement served to evoke annoyance rather than alarm, Luke's concerns are focused on Rey. She had fought well during the battle, her natural talents offsetting her inexperience as they'd subdued wave after wave of Stormtroopers. The attack had served to remind him just how past his prime he was, battered and on the verge of collapse his last clear memory was Rey wounded at his feet as a fog of noxious gas overtook them.

“These stun cuffs are my own design,” the officer continues his pride evident as he runs a gloved finger over the metal at Luke’s wrists. “There is a vial of xenoboric acid within each casing. Were the seal to be broken without my command it would burn straight through the bone.”

The words catch Luke's attention and his metal hand clenches involuntarily. There's something unsavory about this officer beyond the standard dark side associations and Luke feels a sudden chill as his captor moves to touch him. The fabric of his gloves is unnaturally smooth as he runs a finger across Luke's jawline lifting his head slightly.

“If you are considering escape I would advise against it. Even with your Jedi powers it would be a shame to lose another limb.”

The officer taps a finger against Luke's wrist as though to prove his point and Luke fights the urge to send him flying across the room. 

“Temper, temper,” the officer replies as though aware of Luke’s thoughts.”You wouldn't want anything unfortunate to befall your apprentice..."

"Where is she?" 

"On board another vessel and bound for Kylo Ren. Naturally she is guarded by those trained in the force–I do not intend to repeat the mistakes of my _progeny_.

There's disgust in the way the man says the word, his lip curling slightly to reveal a set of sharp, unnaturally white teeth. It wasn't unusual for aristocratic families to have ties with the Empire that extended back generations. Luke didn't need to glance at this man's insignia to know he was of a high rank. His prestige was evident in his bearing, the spotless white of his uniform and the curt crispness of his voice.

"You can trust that your ward will be cared for–her safety is assured on the condition of your compliance."

Luke nods, to protect Rey he would walk through fire, acquiescing to Snoke’s lackeys seemed a small price to pay.

“Why is she being taken to Kylo Ren?” Luke asks, uncertain of how much the officer knows or what he cares to reveal.

“Who can understand the whims of a coddled child,” the officer replies flatly. “The Supreme Leader continues to indulge the desires of his force sensitive pets. I've heard he plans to breed them."

Though his tone is aloof the officer studies Luke's reaction. The thought of Rey reduced to such a fate makes Luke quake with anger and he reaches out with the force in search of the warmth and light that radiated from her presence.

"Do you find that distasteful?" The officer stares down at Luke appraising him. "I have given a son to his glorious regime, watched with pride as he has ascended to the highest ranks. Your ward may provide us with our new Emperor–perhaps her cunt will calm Ren's temperament, better men have been felled by far less."

It would be simple to tap into the force, to split his captor's chest open and watch as he experienced the horrors he deserved. Luke had killed men before and thought nothing of it; he has hovered so close to the darkness he's sworn to battle. Still, were this man's demise to lead to Rey's defeat it would be enough to extinguish his light permanently.

"Forgive me for being crass," the officer says without a hint of kindness. "We all have our primal inclinations, those little maladies that soothe us."

Luke stares at his captor and wonders how far he could get before the acid within the broken cuffs touched his flesh. Color has crept into the officer's face, a blush against his pale skin highlighting the strands of red that remain in his hair.

"Our journey to his Excellency should take three days if we continue on the charted course.”

“Why not jump into hyperspace,” Luke croaks out, suddenly aware of how weary his voice sounds “quicker that way.”

There is amusement in the officer’s gaze, as though Luke’s words have heartened him. He pushes until Luke's back is pressed hard against the steel beams of the wall. His grip is harsh, but a smile creeps into the corners of his mouth.

“How like a pilot to crave speed over safety,” Luke is close enough to spot the sweat glistening on the officer’s neck, and he watches in silence as perspiration darkens the collar of the officer’s uniform. His excitement is palpable, and it makes a knot form in Luke’s stomach.

“I prefer a gentleman’s pace,” the officer kicks Luke’s legs apart and settles one foot between them. “Why should we rush when we have just enough time to grow fond of one another.”

A hand rests on Luke’s abdomen, the faintest pressure against his tunic. Only the barest layer of fabric shields him from whatever his tormenter is planning. He looks around the room considering it for the first time since he’d awoken. Though matching the architectural austerity of all Imperial ship cabins these dwellings seemed strangely decorative, filled with ornaments and trifles: a stone bust of Grand Moff Tarkin, a painting depicting a battle of the Old Republic, crystalline goblets and plates at a table set for two.

“Do you find my quarters suitable?” the officer feigns indifference but Luke can feel his interest. "This will be your home for the duration of our journey and I encourage you to find comfort here. 32 hours in the hold no sleep, no food–you must be at your limit. Or perhaps that Jedi control allows you to experience deprivation without effect.”

As strong as the force was there were moments where he felt far from it. He was hungry, tired, his entire body tender and sore. The pressure building within his bladder ached for release and had for hours prior. As Luke shifts on the balls of his feet, he steadies himself preparing to wait however long it took to attain privacy.

“Of course, some needs are harder to suppress than others.”

The officer’s hand drifts lower resting just above Luke’s bladder. His movements are deliberate, a hard shove that makes Luke inhale sharply and grit his teeth.

“Do you need a moment in the fresher?”

“Yes.” The admission is shameful, but it doesn't trouble Luke as much as the twitch that moves through his body. He attempts to squeeze his thighs together only to have the officer kick his legs further apart.

“Well, you know I can’t allow that,” the officer presses harder and Luke wheezes as he feels a single drop of liquid spill from his cock. 

When the officer steps back to place his gloves onto the table, Luke feels a momentary reassurance. There is a chance this man will grow tired of toying with him, that his captor will spare him this indignity. He shifts in his bonds watching as the officer takes one of the fine stemmed glasses in his hands and returns to inspect its clarity in front of Luke. In the fragments of crystal Luke can see their reflection distorted and warped.

“As a young man I sought blood as repayment for every slight,” with his free hand the officer tears Luke’s tunic in two baring his skin to the cold. “I would carve into men until they offered me what I needed–”

Luke braces himself for the slow slide of a knife into his chest.

“But some men are born martyrs; the torturer’s blade is nothing to them.”

The blow to his pelvis is sharp and sudden, Luke lurches forward staggering as he feels wetness pooling at his groin, a dark patch spreading across the fabric as his knees buckle in beneath him.

"I had to devise new cruelties-blood is not the only gift a man can give."

Luke has to work to remain upright, to keep his expression neutral and stop the flow before he shames himself further.

“Is that all there is?” the officer traces his boot over the small puddle that covers the floor. “Barely enough to wet my boots.”

The strikes come quickly, a series of punches to Luke's midsection that leave him breathless. When the officer finds the precise spot he’s seeking he holds down mercilessly. Luke shakes as his body betrays him, a stream of piss flooding out as the officer continues to press down.

“There we are,” the officer takes the glass and rubs its rim into the wet fabric of Luke’s breeches. “It feels wonderful to let go doesn’t it? Do you enjoy the warmth against your skin––the freedom found in the bestial?”

Luke doesn’t respond. He watches as the officer places the glass into the still flowing stream and lets it fill. A bead forms against the crystal trickling down to leave a golden crescent on the sleeve of his uniform. He is still pristine Luke thinks, untouched by the chaos he’s caused, barely a thread out of place. Luke’s pants cling damply to his body as the last drops splatter loudly against the floor. His shirt is ripped, his pants ruined and the pool of filth at his feet fills the air with an acrid fragrance that his captor sniffs at as he raises his glass in a mockery of a toast.

“I look forward to our time together.”

 

Hours later and Luke has been divested of his clothing, cleaned methodically by a team of droids that beeped and chirped their disapproval as they lathered him with soaps and lotions.

Brendol–Luke has been able to decipher the officer’s name from the whispers of his subordinates as they flit in and out of the room–watches from his seat. The chalice resting at his foot is now empty, his uniform removed and folded neatly. Luke knows what’s coming, but he can only wait bent backward against the floor, the unyielding base of a plug jutting from his ass. Brendol had taken his time working the thickness into him, teasing him with fingertips and tongue until he came with a hollow shout.

“I’ve done this with youths–preening junior officers desperate for my approval, but never with a man worthy of my respect.”

A foot comes to rest against Luke’s throat before he can respond. The thought that the officer cutting off his air supply held any respect for him was ludicrous.

“The difference is staggering.”

The angle provides Luke with a full view of Brendol’s body; the ruddy skin of his legs, the faint crimson hairs that cover his thighs and buttocks. The lean expanse of his frame would be considered beautiful were he not so tainted. Luke flinches as Brendol aims at his chest and begins to relieve himself. The pink head of Brendol’s cock peeks out from beneath his foreskin as a torrent of gold spills onto Luke’s skin.

“Have you thought about something like this before?” Brendol sighs as he watches Luke twist beneath him. “All your years wrenching moisture from the sand and soil, every drop of water precious.”

The warmth is unbearable and Luke shifts beneath the spray as it flows over his nipples and down his body. Each movement pushes the plug deeper, and he groans as it presses against his walls, expanding of its own accord and making him ache. Brendol’s foot is still heavy against his throat, and Luke can feel his world fading into darkness as the heat begins to pool at his groin.

“Rub it into your skin.”

The cuffs limit his mobility, but Luke complies as best he can spreading the liquid across his stomach and flanks as Brendol grunts above him the stream weakening to a trickle as his cock hardens.

"If only I'd found you earlier..."

As Brendol lowers himself onto Luke's body pressing his face against the wet Luke feels Rey reach out to him through the darkness.

"Master, what have they done to you?" Her words echo in his mind their sadness bringing forth the well of emotion he'd been holding back, as a tear slips down his cheek Luke can feel Brendol shudder against him coating his belly with seed.

"Nothing Rey," Luke whispers. "Nothing I can't take."


End file.
